Shut up Cartman, Jews DO have rhythm!
by SomeKindOfRomance
Summary: COMPLETE Based on Fermata's challenge. Kyle is sick of Cartman and his stereotyping, so he challenges him to a DDR dance off to prove once and for all that jews have rhythm. NONSLASH.. but take a peek anyways all you slash lovers.
1. Chapter 1

**This is based on Fermata's challenge. There is no slash to be had in this story whatsoever... But be a sport.. read it anyway.**

**I own South Park in no way, shape or form. It belongs to Matt Stone and Trey Parker.**

**_Shut up Cartman! Jews DO have rhythm_**

"Aw c'mon dude. It's really stupid how you keep letting this shit get to you." Stan looked over to an angered Kyle who was clenching his teeth so tightly it looked as if he were about to break his jaw. "Cartman is just an insensitive, fat, racist, homophobe, fat fucking jerk ass."

"Fat fucking jerk ass? Nice Stan. You do have a way with words." Kyle's mood seemed to lighten as a result of Stan's reassurance. "I just don't get it though. Why does he have to ruin my life?"

"Kyle, if you think about it, he's not trying to ruin your life.. He's just trying to make it hell.. a little bit..."

"A little bit?" Kyle's voice began to raise. "I'm sick of him making fun of my faith.. and his fucking stereotyping! Ah geez I can't stand that shit. I-"

"Kyle we all know you're not going to grow up to be an investment banker... I can't even begin to see you embezzeling money from a multi-million dollar corporation.." Stan's voice trailed off. Kyle took the opportunity to throw in another idea.

"I have rhythm." He looked at Stan with inquisitive eyes.

"Heh.. heh.. hahaha," Stan started to laugh. "No dude.. Cartman's right about that one."

"Dude what are you talking about, I-"

"Totally fucked up the choreography when we did 'Getting Gay With Kids.' Stan let out a few more laughs.

"Dude that was nine years ago. I _have_ developed a sense of rythmn since then."

"Two words... Line dancing.."

"Huh?"

"Last week in gym.. line dancing remember? You sucked complete and total ass."

"Dude.. it's line dancing. It's fucking lame. The only reason you know how to do it is because your dad taught you how to when you got served."

"You always mess up when you do 'The Hokey Pokey.'"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "That shit's for kids."

"Kids that have rhythm." Kyle was beginning to get flustered.

"Are you on his side or what?"

"Huh? Hell no.. are you kidding me? I just don't lie.."

"But I do have rhythm goddamnit!" Kyle looked like he was about to explode.

"Kyle breathe.." Stan inhaled a long breath and exhaled deeply as if to demonstrate. Kyle followed his advice and managed to calm down a tiny bit. "Ok, now that we're calm enough to speak in our indoor voices..." He placed a sympathetic hand on the redhead's shoulder. "Ok.. the only way you're going to make Cartman shut up is if you show him that you can dance."

Kyle bit the side of his cheek. "But he's right.. I can't dance."

Stan's eyes widened and he growled in anger. "Then why did you just throw that little hissy fit?"

"Because it made me feel good."

"Dude I give up on you. You are seriously like... a fucking rubik's cube.. and it doesn't help that i'm colorblind."

"You aren't colorblind."

"I know.. I was just trying to deepen the metaphor."

"Kay?"

The two boys made their way out of South Park High and headed for the parking lot, where Cartman's mini-van was parked.

"Hey assholes.. what took you guys so long?" Cartman asked impatiently as he tapped his fingers on the windshield of his mom's van. "Were you being a faggy little jew, Kyle?"

Kyle balled his hands into fists, knuckles turning white. Stan noticed his tension and attempted to calm the boy down. "Dude he's our ride to and from school for the next year.. and I really don't think you want to take the bus to school senior year.. do you?"

Kyle relaxed his fists and shifted his gaze to the pavement. "No."

"Get in the car bitches! I don't have all day!" Stan and Kyle heeded Cartman's words and jumped into the van. It was Kyle's day to ride shot, but he forced Stan to sit up front in his place. He wanted to stay as far away from the fat ass as he possibly could. Unfortunately it did nothing but add fuel to the fire.

"Hey jewboy, why aren't you up in front today?" Cartman glanced at him through the rearview mirror. Kyle returned his glance with a sneer.

"Because I.. Do I need to have an excuse?"

"Well, jews do have excuses for everything.. except for killing Jesus."

"SHUT UP CARTMAN!" Cartman smiled at the reaction that he got from the redheaded boy in the back.

"And here is 'angry jew.' Ladies and gentlemen, stay as far away as possible, because angry jews have sand in their vaginas."

"God Cartman will you give it a rest?" Stan asked, very annoyed.

"And next to me we have the jewish ass kisser." Kyle rolled his eyes and Stan banged his head up against the window. Cartman was loving this.

"God Cartman.. you and your fucking stereotypes." Kyle gave an aggravated sigh and looked out the window. "They're all-"

"True. Goddamn true. Truer than truth itself." Kyle remembered the conversation he and Stan had earlier together and decided to pull pieces from it and use it against Cartman.

"I'm not going to be an investment banker and I wouldn't steal money from any rich corporation." Kyle's eyes narrowed into slits as his eyes met Cartman's in the rearview mirror.

"You're forgetting one thing little Kyle." He made extra sure to pronounce the t's.

"What?"

"You don't have rhythm. heh heh heh heh hehhh heh."

"Shut up Cartman! I do too have rhythm."

Cartman started to sing "_Getting Gay With Kids is here! To spread the word and bring you cheer. Let's save the rainforest! What do you say! Being an activist is totally gay_." Stan started to sing along with him.

"Stan what the fuck?"

"Dude I can't help that it's such a catchy song."

"Yea and he also knows you don't have any grain of rhythm in you whatsoever."

"That's it fat ass! I choose you!"

"Oh you wanna fight? Last time I checked, jews were pussies."

Kyle took a deep breath. "No Cartman.. I am going to proove to you.. once and for all that jews have.. _I_ have rhythm."

"So what are you like challenging him?" Stan asked, completely baffled.

"Yes Stan I am 'like challenging him.' I'm challenging you to a DDR dance off." Cartman started to laugh hysterically as they pulled up outside of Stan's house.

"Don't do this Kyle," Stan pleaded. "Let's just go." He motioned towards his house.

"No Stan! I need to do this... Next friday Cartman... I will prove to you once and for all.."

Cartman just laughed.. "Ok bitch, I accept. Now get the fuck out of my car."

Kyle unbuckled his seatbelt and slid the door open. "Oh and Cartman?"

"What?"

"If I win, no more stereotyping."

"Hokay jew, you're on. I hope you don't mind being picked on for the rest of your life.. but don't worry, it'll make you a stronger person instead of a big whiny jewish p-" Kyle closed the sliding door before Cartman could finish. Cartman angrily beeped the horn and sped off.

"Dude?" Stan looked over to Kyle uneasily.

"Yes?"

"Cartman is going to kick your ass."

"No, he isn't."

"But you said you suck."

"I do."

"Well then how are-"

"You're going to coach me."

"What?" Stan's eyes practically bulged out of his head.

"Stan you play that stupid game all the time.. Besides you owe me."

"Oh no.. no no no no no." Kyle slapped Stan on the shoulder.

"Get a grip Stan. If I win, there'll be less fighting between Cartman and I."

Stan smiled at the thought of this. "Ahhh, I could live with that."

"So you'll do it?"

"You're going to be the best goddamned DDR dancer South Park has ever seen."

"Thanks Stan!" Kyle threw his arms over his best friend.

"Tomorrow morning... my house, 6," Stan choked out into Kyle's shoulder. This immediately caused Kyle to let go.

"But dude.. it's a saturday," Kyle whined.

Stan cocked an eyebrow. "Do you or do you not want Cartman to shut up?"

"Fuck."

"Alright then, 6 it is," Stan said cheerfully as they headed inside to play gamesphere.


	2. Chapter 2

**There'll probably be one or two more chapters left to this little challenge. It's been kinda fun writing a story where the boys don't hump eachother for once.. Leave a review if you like. That'd be hella cool.**

"Ah Stan this is sooo frustrating!"

"Hey, you got yourself into this, there's no turning back now."

"I know." Kyle tugged anxiously on his sweatpants. They weren't getting anywhere with this. Stan was a good teacher but Kyle just couldn't seem to focus. Physical activity was not exactly what made the boy. Kyle's foundation was books. He studied dictionaries, thesauruses, hell the kid even had the first thirteen letters of pie memorized.

"You're just not paying attention. I know you don't like this but you have to deal. I hate algebra, you don't see me lollygagging in class."

"Lollygagging?" Kyle gave a small chuckle. "Dork."

"Hey, shut up," Stan ordered. "Do you wanna win this thing or not?" Kyle nodded. "Alright then. It's really simple. I'm gonna explain this to you again. I want you to listen this time, because if you don't then I give up. Before we go there and practice this afternoon, I want you to know the ins and outs. How are you so far?"

"I'm following."

"Good. Alright.. Dance Dance Revolution.."

"Yea.. DDR.."

"First of all, there's a platform with four arrows... up, down, left and right. You still with me?"

"Yep."

"Ok. There are four stationary arrows at the top of the screen. More arrows will scroll up from the bottom of the screen... You with me still?"

"Godamnit Stan, stop checking in with me after every sentence. I'm listening for fuck's sake!"

"Someone's got a little sand in-"

"Damnit Stan!"

"Ok, ok... sorry. You're just being a little bitch." Kyle gave Stan a scowl which the boy ignored completely. "Ok, if you were paying attention, then where did I leave off?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, "scrolling arrows."

"When the scrolling arrows overlap the stationary arrows, you hit the corresponding arrow on the platform." Stan fell silent.

"What else?"

"That's it."

"That's fucking it? You woke me up at 6 in the morning to give me a two minute explaination on some stupid game?"

Stan looked down at his watch. "Yea, it was a two minute explaination.. but considering I had to repeat myself at least a dozen times, it took well over a half an hour. See, I plan ahead for these things." He put a sympathetic hand on the redhead's shoulder. "After football practice i'll meet you at the arcade ok?" Kyle nodded his head. "Dude, fatass isn't gonna win," he assured, with fingers crossed behind his back. "I have complete confidence in you. You're gonna dance circles around him."

"I hope you're right."

'I doubt it,' Stan thought. "Ok, so I get out at 1:30, so we can meet at then."

"Dude, aren't you gonna take a shower after practice?" Kyle cringed.

"Kyle, when you're done by the end of the day, you'll smell far worse than me. You are gonna sweat until you're dehydrated.. Then we'll put more water in you, make you dance and you'll dehydrate some more."

"Oh, real nice Stan."

"Dude, i'm kidding. I just wanna let you know that this isn't gonna be easy... for you at least."

"I got you," Kyle said as he walked to the door. "1:30 then?"

"Affirmative." As soon as Kyle left, Stan plopped down on his sofa. "I'm going to hell for lying."

-

"Buhbie, don't drink out of the carton," Mrs. Broflovski scolded as she watched her son down some milk. "What are you doing up this early anyway? It's a saturday, right?"

"Uh, yea ma. Stan's helping me with something." Mrs. Broflovski raised an eyebrow. "It's not drugs ma," he assured. She still didn't look like she believed him, but continued on with her morning routine nevertheless.

"Ike!" she screamed at the top of her lungs."

'Poor bastard,' Kyle thought as he walked up to his room. Once he reached the door he turned the knob, only to find it locked. "Ma," he called down the stairs, "why is my room locked?" He could hear giggles coming from inside the room. "Ike get out!" He pounded furiously on his own door, face turning red with anger. "I'm gonna kill you Canadian." The sniggering continued. "Ma, a little help!"

Sheila pounded up the stairs, shaking the entire house. Once the rather portly woman was at the top of the stairs, she took a minute to catch her breath and compose herself. "Ike, bubula, get out of Kyle's room NOW!" Kyle jumped as she spoke the last word. He wondered if the people down the street were able to hear his mother's voice...he wondered if people in China were able to hear it. With a few clicks of the lock, Ike stepped out of the redhead's room and made a run for it.

"Not so fast you little rodent," Kyle yelled as he started to chase his brother to his room. Mrs. Broflovski promptly grabbed his shirt, preventing him of actually catching the annoying younger sibling. She raised a red eyebrow and looked deep into her son's eyes, scaring the hell out of him. "Thanks ma." She nodded with a smile and headed down the stairs. Kyle gave a strained sigh and headed into his room. He glanced around his room to make sure that everything was in order. He almost finished scanning the whole room, when his eyes fell on his computer. There was content on the screen that he had no hand in putting up. "What the fuck," he swore aloud as he tried to X out of all the porn pop-ups. "I'm gonna kill that little fucker!"

After several minutes, when his screen was completely cleared of the sleazy porn, he noticed Ike had signed him onto Instant Messenger. Apparently he was holding a few conversations with a few people and was too stupid to hide the evidence. "Heh.. douchebag." Kyle opened up the first chat box, which contained a conversation with Bebe. His eyes practically bulged out of his head when he read contents.

**KB1783**: Hey baby, wasssssup!

**n0Ty0UrDUmbBloNDe**: kyle stop tryin to be kewl.

Kyle cringed at her atrocious spelling and formatted screen name.

**KB1783**: I am quite the loser, aren't I?

**n0Ty0UrDUmbBloNDe**: i didint say that.

**KB1783**: So what you're trying to say is you wanna fuck? I'm sure as hell up for a good sack session.

**n0Ty0UrDUmbBloNDe**: CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

**n0Ty0UrDUmbBloNDe has logged off**

"SHIT! I am going to kill him!" He knew that even though Bebe was defensive in the conversation, she would be all over him on monday. If she knew a guy liked her then she would make the most out of the situation. Kyle had worked hard for years to try and make Bebe see that he was interested. Ike had just undone everything. He clentched his fists in anger and opened up the next chat box.

**KB1783**: Tweek, i'm part of the mafia... just know, that we're after you. Enjoy your last day on earth.

**GahTooMuchPressure**: GAH! ARE YOU SERIOUS. NO PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T HURT ME! I'LL DO ANYTHING!

**KB1783**: Ok, you have to write sandy vagina on my locker in permanent marker.

Kyle X-ed out of the box before he could read anymore. As dumb as his brother acted, he was a pretty smart kid. He was a Cartman in the making. The redhead shuddered at the thought and blinked a few times before his eyes returned to the screen. He opened up the very last chat box and cringed when he saw who Ike was talking to.

**iLLmakeYouEatyourParents**: You're going down jew

**KB1783**: I am? Cool. How am I going down?

**iLLmakeYouEatyourParents**: I'm gonna win that competition.

**KB1783**: ok? I'm sure you will, if it's against me.

**iLLmakeYouEatyourParents**: Ike, get off your brother's sn, you stupid douche.

Kyle laughed as he read Cartman's orders to Ike. He wouldn't admit it, but Cartman did make him laugh sometimes. He looked over at the clock during his realization. He had two more hours before he had to meet Stan at the arcade.. Enough time to put a dent in his brother's head. He made his way to his brother's bedroom.. "Oh IIIIke?"

-

"Hey there you are! I thought you weren't going to show up." Stan got up off of the bench outside of the arcade.

"What made you think I wasn't going to show up?"

"So let's get started," Stan offered, changing the subject. He opened up the door and allowed Kyle to enter first. After the redhead slowly made his way in, Stan followed. "Dude, can you go any slower?" Stan asked as he watched his friend trudge morbidly over to the DDR station.

"I'm savoring the time I still have with my legs.. I suck so much, i'll probably render myself of the ability to walk."

"Just shut up and get in line," the black haired boy ordered, "or else."

"Or else what?"

"Exactly."

Kyle rolled his eyes at his friend's blatant stupidity and did as he was told. His green eyes locked on a kid that was using the machine. He looked down to the boy's feet and watched as they gracefully moved from arrow to arrow. "Dude, I don't know if I can-"

"Nuh uh, no talking like that."

Kyle took a deep breath as the kid stepped off the machine. He shook nervously and watched the boy wipe the sweat off his face. The boy took one look at Kyle and scoffed.

"Don't be such a pussy," he insulted.

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Me," the boy said through a smirk. Kyle balled up his fists, ready to punch the sarcastic preteen before him.

"Dude, he's in the fifth grade," Stan warned. "If he ends up kicking your ass, you'll never hear the end of it. Just let it go."

Kyle had no other choice but to do just that. He gave one last glance to the wise ass boy and stepped up on the machine. The kid watched with amusement as Kyle ran his hand through his hair, mumbling the directions he had learned that morning. "Alright.. Four arrows.. one up, down, left and right. Stationary arrows at the top. The scrolling arrows correspond with the arrows on the platform."

"HA," Kyle turned around to face the annoying fifth grader. "You've never played this before? You really are a pussy."

Kyle gave an audible growl and inserted quarters into the machine. Once the game started, Kyle's feet were flying all over the place, surprisingly, where they were supposed to be.

"Holy shit dude!" Stan's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He turned to the fifth grader and gave an evil smile. "It's his first time and he's already better than you." The other boy brought his gaze up to the redhead on the platform.

"No, you're lyin.' He's obviously done this before." Stan shook his head and waved the kid away. The boy left in a huff.

"DUDE!" Kyle yelled as soon as he finished, "did you see that? How do you like them apples!" The excited jew jumped off the platform and high fived his best friend.

"I had no idea. What the hell did... a-are you sure you haven't done this before?"

"Positive," Kyle said with a big smile.

"Well, Cartman's fucked."


	3. Chapter 3

**One more chapter to this, after this one. Thanks reviewers.**

"Shouldn't you be practicing, fatass?" Kenny glared across the Cartman livingroom, at the motionless lump on the couch.

"Shouldn't you keep your poor mouth shut?"

"I'd rather be poor than a fatass."

"AY!"

"It's true dude. How do you even expect to beat Kyle if you can't even climb your stairs without getting winded?"

Cartman pondered this for a moment and then waved off the issue. "Sure I'll be huffing and puffing, but at least I'll be stepping on all the right places." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I can just picture it now... My victory, that is."

"Hah"

"You may laugh now, my poor little companion, but it's me who'll be laughing in the end. If- I mean when I win, I'll have complete permission to tease Kyle relentlessly. I can just picture his little jew face turning red, streaming with jew tears."

"Cartman, you're so full of shit. Have you ever read that fable with the tortoise and the hair?"

"Fuck that. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well," Kenny put a finger to his temple, considering how he was going to make his point. "Slow and steady wins the race, right?"

"Uh, no."

"If you remember correctly, the rabbit was so full of shit... like you, so he lost. So basically, I'm comparing you to the rabbit and Kyle to the tortoise.. Although, you should be the tortoise because you're extra fat and ridiculously slow."

"Well, you wanna know what Kenny? If you were a tortoise, you wouldn't be able to afford a shell."

Kenny looked at Cartman, dumbfounded by his stupidity. "Hey asshole, tortoises are born with their shells. How fucking stupid are you?"

Cartman jutted out his jaw in attempt to intimidate the other boy. "Kenny, I can kick your ass."

"Maybe if I were drunk... actually unconscious..."

"I've kicked your ass before!"

"I was in a vegatative state. I was brain dead."

"So.. It still counts." Cartman stood up and walked over to the TV to change the channel. "My mom had to be a stupid woman and lose the channel changer."

"Have you ever considered that it might just be stuck in one of your rolls?"

"AY!" Cartman pressed his fat finger on the two and then one. The news immediately changed to immature fart jokes.

"I can't believe you still watch that shit Cartman. You're a fucking junior in highschool. Although you really should've stayed back."

"But I didn't, because the teachers knew I was smart."

"No... The teachers didn't want you around for another year."

Cartman knew this was true. All the teachers dispised the boy. He mostly failed his way through elementary and middle school, but all the teachers gave him solid C's instead of F's. "Kenny, ok? I don't need your shit right now. You should let me bask in my glory. So, if you don't have anything nice to say then leave!"

Kenny smiled, turned around and walked out the door, leaving a very angered Cartman behind.

-

"What's this all about dudes?" Kenny queried.

The three boys stood outside the arcade, two of them smiling, the other skeptical.

"Kenny," Stan began, "it's completely and totally amazing dude!"

Kenny cocked an eyebrow. He had been standing outside the arcade with them for two minutes and he still hadn't found out what all the fuss was about. "Just fucking tell me already!" he snapped out of curiosity.

Kyle folded his arms across his chest and a smug smile spread its way across his face. "Kyle's the king of DDR," Stan bragged.

"Jesus Christ. Are you guys on shrooms again?"

"What do you mean again, Kenny? I would never do that stuff!" Kyle defended.

"He's playin' around," Stan assured and nudged the redhead in the side.

Kyle pondered this for a second and then backed down. "Sorry Ken, I'm still in Cartman-fight mode," Kyle admitted.

Kenny nodded. "S'alright." He placed a thoughtful hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Now, are you sure this isn't just beginner's luck?" Kenny asked sincerely.

Kyle frowned. "I dunno. I never thought about that. Jesus, Stan. What if it was just beginner's luck?"

"Fuck it. There's no such thing," he waved it away with his hand. "Kenny, you follow us. Kyle's gonna dance."

"Alright."

The three boys headed into the arcade and walked straight over to the DDR platform. There was a small line, so they entered it and waited patiently.

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeey," Kyle and Stan heard a familiar, obnoxious voice. They recognized it to be the kid from earlier. "Hey everyone, you see this pansy?" HE pointed towards Kyle, and Kyle clenched his fists.

"Dude, just let it go. He's a fifth grader," Stan assured.

"He's been dancing forever and he's saying he just started. Go figure."

"Kid," Kyle reasoned, "I really did just start K? Now, you're really pissing me off." He looked over to Stan with pleading eyes. "Can I please, PLEASE bash his face in?"

"Hey kid," Kenny sneered. "He's never done it before, ahright? Now why don't you beat it before I egg your ass." He tapped the side of his pocket with a smirk.

"Hah, with what egg?"

Kenny reached into his pocket and pulled out an egg, holding it in front of the kid's face. "Now you be a good boy and run along, or I made omellettes on your forehead."

The boy snorted in Kenny's direction and walked off, storming out the door and muttering something about poor people.

"Thanks, Ken," Kyle said with a smile.

"Don't thank me. Dance for Christ's sake. I wanna sleep." He looked down at his watch. "It's nearly 7, dudes.."

"What're you doing going to bed at 7?"

"Well Stan, first of all I'm tired. Secondly, Kyle get your fucking ass up on that thing and just show me ahready!"

Kyle nodded, did as he was told and inserted quarters into the coin slot. Almost immediately his feet began to fly, making intricate patterns across the platform.

"What the hell?" Kenny scratched his head, completely confused. "Kyle, d'ya sell your soul?"

"Dude, he's just got it. He's fucking got it. Don't ask me how." Stan smiled and patted his buddy's back as soon as he finished the game and stepped down. "Kyle, you're gonna put the fatass in his place."

"Yea," Kenny agreed. "The dumb shit was telling me how he was gonna win."

"Typical fatass," Stan said.

"Yea, he'll get winded after two seconds."

"Oh yea Kyle, I may get winded, but at least I'll win." Cartman pushed his way through the arcade doors and sauntered over to the other boys.

"Yea Cartman, I really think you've got a chance," Stan said with sarcasm.

"Oh Stan, come friday, jew will be in tears. I already have a bunch of jew jokes lined up and ready to go."

"Well, they aren't going to go," Kyle said. "I'm gonna win."

"Kyle, you're already going to hell for being a jew, so don't lie."

"Hey Cartman, if you're so good, then show us what you got."

"You know what Ken, I think I will... On friday. I don't want jewboy stealing any of my techniques."

"He doesn't wanna be a fatass, fatass."

"Ay hippie, shut up!"

The other three boys just stood there laughing in his face.

"Alright you guys, since you're soooo positive Kyle's gonna win, let's sweeten this deal... add some more conditions."

"K Cartman. What are these condidtions?"

"Well first of all..."

**This isn'ta cliff hanger.. You just wont know the conditions till the very end. :-)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm from New England. We say 'wicked' over here to describe things like : That's wicked awesome, you're wicked stupid, that smells wicked bad... and so forth. It's basically a substitute for 'really.'**

**Thanks to everyone who left a review :-)**

**Here is le final chapter. Enjoy.. or not.**

"What's going on?" Clyde walked up to join the crowd outside the arcade.

"Oh, I do think it's a showdown!" Pip responded.

"Right," Clyde replied as he pushed his way past the brit. "Dork." He made his way to the front of the crowd where Kyle, Stan, Cartman and Kenny stood. "Dudes what's goin' on?" Clyde asked, not trusting Pip's word.

"You mean what's goin' down," Kenny said with raised eyebrows.

"Ok, what's goin' down?"

"A dance off," Kenny replied simply.

"Yea, Kyle here is gonna get his little jew ass-"

"Cartman, Kyle's gonna make you eat your words," Stan interjected.

"Yea, he'll eat anything," Kyle joked.

"AY shut up jew!"

"Ok, here's the deal," Stan announced. "This is going to be the best out of three. It wasn't originally supposed to be that way, but Cartman," Stan gave a dirty glance towards the fat boy, "Cartman insisted that there be three rounds, just in case there _is_ such a thing as beginner's luck."

"Quite possible," Cartman stated. "You know there is such a thing."

"This is gonna be a good clean fight," Stan yelled over Cartman's voice. "Cheating will _not_ be prohibited... Although, I don't know how anybody could cheat."

"Well Cartman's part of the competition," Clyde pointed out.

"He's too fat to do anything drastic," Kyle jeered.

'Oh jew, if you only knew,' Cartman laughed evily inside his head.

"Ok, so let's all head in... I guess." Stan and Kenny held the doors to the arcade open, ushering in all their classmates.

"Kyle's gonna lose," Stan heard someone say. "He's got no rhythm."

"No, Cartman's gonna lose," he heard another argue. "He's too fat to win. He lost in the special olympics."

Stan rolled his eyes at all the comments filtering through his ears. When the last few kids entered through the door, he let out a sigh of relief. "Let's get this show on the road, eh Ken?"

"Yea, please... I need to sleep."

"Kenny, it's 1:30."

"You can tell time, awesome." Kenny headed through the door, letting it shut in the other boy's face.

"Of course I can fucking tell time," Stan yelled to no one in particular.

**-**

"You should really stretch dude," Kenny offered to Cartman.

"Nah, stretching is for losers."

"Yea, losers that don't wanna get cramps during physical activities."

"I don't cramp up."

"Whatever," Kenny replied. He walked over to where Stan and Kyle stood, leaving Cartman completely alone. "Hey dude," he said, putting a hand on the jew's shoulder. "Maybe you should stretch."

"Yea," Stan agreed.

"Alright." Kyle walked over to a corner and began to stretch.

"Dude, Cartman is so fucked."

"Stan, don't say things like that. You might jinx it."

"There's no such thing as a jinx."

"Heh, try living my life, you'd be quite surprised."

"Maybe you just sleep too much."

"Minus the maybe, and we have ourselves a correct statement," Kenny grinned.

"Ok jew, time to go," Cartman bellowed.

Kenny and Stan glanced from Cartman to Kyle. "You ready dude?" Kenny asked.

"More than ready," Kyle replied, confidently. "Who's going first?"

"You."

"I don't wanna go first, fatass."

"Well too bad, you're gonna."

"No!"

The two boys dove on top of eachother, fists flailing in the air. "Hey hey hey!" Kenny yelled. He got in between both of them. "Break it up! We'll settle this fair and square."

"Rocks, Paper, Scissors?" Stan offered.

"That's the only way to go."

"Ok then, best out of three," Cartman demanded.

"Fine fatass. Come here Kyle. We gotta get this thing started."

All the children gathered around the four boys, waiting anxiously for the outcome.

"Rocks, paper, scissors, shoot!"

"Damnit!" Kyle cursed as Cartman cut his paper with scissors.

"Haha jew."

"Come on, go again," Kenny demanded.

"Rocks, paper, scissors, shoot!"

This time, Kyle pulled out a rock to crush Cartman's scissors.

"Shit. I'm still gonna win!"

"Sure, let's just finish this Cartman," Kenny urged.

"Rocks, papers, scissors, shoot!"

"Oh yea!" Kyle exclaimed as he covered Cartman's rock with paper.

"Oh no," Cartman argued. Paper does_ not_ beat atomic bomb! BOOOOOOOM," he yelled as he pretended to explode Kyle's paper.

"Get up there, fatass," Stan demanded.

Cartman groaned and did as he was told. He inserted the coins into the machine and the music began. The whole crowd looked on and giggled as Cartman huffed and puffed. "I... hate... you... guys," he managed to choke out, while gasping desperately for air. Surprisingly, he did better than everyone thought and gave a flawless performance... minus the hacking and swearing. "Beat that, jewboy," he sneered as he got off the platform.

"Gladly." Kyle stepped up and followed the same procedure as Cartman. However, he gave a much cleaner performance than the other boy. There was no cussing and coughing. His feet flew gracefully all over the platform, stunning everyone.

"He's pretty damn good," Craig stated.

"GAH! HE IS? OH, HE IS!" Tweek agreed in his own paranoid sort of way.

"It was _I_ who taught him," Stan said, beaming.

"Get over yourself, hippie!"

"Whatever Cartman."

As soon as Kyle stepped off the platform, cheering erupted all throughout the arcade. "I knew you could do it!" someone yelled.

"Hey! There're still two more rounds left," Cartman announced.

"Yea, and Kyle just won that one."

"Yea, he kicked your ass."

"Shut up Kenny! I hate you Stan!" Cartman was pretty pissed off. Determination overswept him as he took his place on the platform. "This is _my_ round!"

Stan and Kenny looked on in dissappointment as Cartman ruled the platform. Nobody knew that he could move that fast. "I guess when he really wants something... he really wants something."

"Uh... right, Kenny."

As soon as the music died down and Cartman finished, he jumped off, sporting the biggest smirk ever. "How do you like them apples?"

Kyle rolled his eyes and motioned his head towards the bathroom. "I gotta go, I'll be right back."

"Don't fall in,"Cartman warned. "You fall in, you forfeit." Nobody paid attention to the vengeful boy of mass proportions. He smiled and took the opportunity to set "Operation Jew Down," in action. He walked over to his back pack and pulled a bunch of capsules. "Thank goodness mom's an insomniac," he said quietly. The overweight boy had no time to waste, so he quickly made his way over to Kyle's caffiene free, diet soda, twisted the capsules in half, poured the contents of them into the soft drink and stirred. "Heh heh heh. Goodnight jew." He quickly moved away from Kyle's beverage as soon as he saw him return from the bathroom.

"You ready?" Stan asked.

"Yea, you ready?" Cartman echoed.

Kyle pushed the heavier boy out of the way. "More than you know," he stated. He quickly picked up his drink before climbing aboard the platform.

"Hurry up and drink," Kenny urged.

Kyle did as he was told, downed all the contents of his drink and hopped up on the platform.

"YEA, GO KYLE!" Stan screamed, as Kyle's feet began their dance.

"That's my boy," Kenny smiled proudly.

The whole crowd looked on as Kyle managed to hit each step correctly.

"Flawless," Clyde exclaimed. "Absolutely flaw-"

"Fuck!" Kyle screamed as he tripped over his own feet. He hopped down off the platform and Stan rushed to his side with a wet paper towel.

"I won this round!"

"Yea, you did.. Captain Obvious," Stan told Cartman, as he wiped his friend's blood off his knee. "You ok Kyle?"

"Yea, this is nothing," he stated matter-of-factly. "Go on fatass, let's get this done and overwith," Kyle ordered.

"Si..." Cartman got up on the machine. "Means yes in spanish."

The three boys ignored the stupid statement and watched as Cartman began his dance. "Crap, he's doing pretty good," Kyle stated with a yawn.

"Looks like you need more sleep than I do."

"Kenny, I could never sleep that much." He began to rub his eyes and let out another yawn.

"Dude, you ok?" Stan asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yea... f-fine." His head rolled off to the side and his eyes began to close.

"Dude, this is no time for sleep. Get your ass over there and get ready!" Stan demanded. He shoved Kyle to his feet and the jew made his way over to the dancing Cartman.

"Fuck!" He yelled as he fell down on the ground, in a tired heap.

"Dude!" Stan rushed over to his side, followed closely by Kenny. "What's the matter?"

"I dunno, I'm just wicked tired."

After Cartman finished, he waltzed over to the boys. "Oh what ever is the matter, little jew?" He gave a sly smirk and batted his eyes.

"What did you do Cartman!" Kenny accused.

"Nothing!"

"Yea fucking right," Stan yelled. "What did you do, asshole?" He glanced over to Cartman's things and noticed the half empty container of prescribed medication. "CARTMAN!" His eyes widened in horror. The black haired boy rushed over to the bag and read the description off the pill bottle. "These are sleeping pills! How many did you give him?"

"I dunno.. I lost count."

"Great going fatass. You just made Kyle overdose!" Stan rushed over to Kyle's side. The jew's eyes were starting to roll back into his head. "Cartman, you lose.. You cheated!"

"Aw, not fair. The jew didn't even get to dance."

"Yea, because he's probably dying."

"I'm... not... l-losing," Kyle declared. He slowly got to his feet and walked over to the DDR station. "I'm n-not losing!"

"Kyle, come on!" Kenny begged. "We have to get you to the hospital!"

"No." Kyle weakly inserted the quarters and began to dance, slowly, painfully.

"KYLE!" Stan yelled, as he saw his friend collapse.

_-_

Kyle woke up to the sound of steady beeping. "H-help!" He screamed out. "Where am I?"

"S'alright," Kenny assured, as he squeezed the frail boy's hand.

"Cartman has something to tell you," Stan said as he pushed Cartman into the hospital room.

"Kyle..." Cartman's eyes wandered the ceiling, as if they were searching for answers. "Kyle," he began again, "you won."

"I know. You cheated."

"No shit. Let's just get this over with." Cartman got down to his knees and took Kyle's hand in his. "Jew... GODDAMNIT, THIS FUCKING SUCKS!" Stan kicked him in the leg. "Ok, ok.. Kyle, you are the..." he cringed and Stan kicked him again. "You are the best DDR dancer... in South Park."

Kyle broke into a fit of laughs. "Whoa dude... Cartman just kissed my ass."

"Don't get used to it!" Cartman yelled.

"It was _your_ condition," Kyle stated. "You were the one that said I was gonna get down on my knees when I lost, and proclaim that you were the best."

"Whatever." Cartman began to storm out of the room.

"Fatass, wait.."

"What?"

"Say it."

"What?"

"Say it."

"Fucking jew... Goddamnit.. I hate you."

"Say it."

"Jew's have rhythm.. happy?"

"Very."

**END**

**Hope you enjoyed my first multi-chapter, non-slash fic. Now, just to finish the others.**


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